


Teach Me

by ashleyerwinner



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Condoms, Destiel - Freeform, Explicit Sexual Content, Funny, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Bathroom, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Content, Supernatural - Freeform, sex ed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-23
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleyerwinner/pseuds/ashleyerwinner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has taught Castiel nearly everything he needs to know to be human, but Castiel is still curious. Reluctantly, he goes to Dean for advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Condoms

**Author's Note:**

> There WILL be other chapters of this; obviously I wouldn't leave it just as condoms and leave readers wanting more. I will write a sex scene!

Sam taught Castiel how to use a computer. Just the basics: how to get an email, and how to then check said email, how to google things, and what facebook was, (even though Castiel would never use it). Sam taught him most of the stuff he needed to know how to be human. He explained to Castiel how plumbing worked, and how to use a plunger, how to unsuccessfully use chopsticks, how to order a pizza (without paying in sexual favors), and how to use the television. He taught him about hygiene, how to brush his teeth and hair, and do laundry, and how to scrub behind his ears. He was even teaching him how to drive a car (a stolen car, but a car nonetheless). But still, Castiel felt uncomfortable asking him about sex.

He would will himself at least ten times a day to ask Sam how to have sex, or to find a mate, or to control the urge to dry-hump everything, but he couldn’t. Sam was helping him so much, and Castiel didn’t want to burden him with another one of his inquiries about human life.

Reluctantly, he went to Dean.

“I want to have sex.” He confessed to him one night. Dean’s mouth dropped open and stared at Castiel blankly, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth. “Not with you, Dean.” He specified, his face burning. Dean had an expression of offense written all over his face. Castiel sighed.

“Do you even have condoms, dude?” Dean asked. His eyebrows were raised expectantly. Castiel shook his head no, and Dean chuckled again. “So you don’t have anyone in mind?” The hunter asked with a smile on his face. Castiel was offended now.

“I should have just asked Sam.” He said simply and walked out of the room. Dean watched him walk out, feeling relief and confusion and amusement all at once.

* * *

 

_I’m sorry for laughing at you. But get condoms before you do anything. You don’t want diseases and you don’t want to get anyone pregnant. –Dean_

The note was simple enough. And as irresponsible as Castiel knew to be, he actually made decent and responsible points. So, he went to the store to get condoms.

Not so simple.

Lubricated, non-lubricated, ribbed, large, extra-large, blue, pink, glow-in-the-dark, Trojan, Durex, ect; there were just so many to choose from.

So, Castiel got one of each.

* * *

 

“It made more sense at the time.” Castiel said over Dean’s laughter. Dean had seen the extra-large peeping out of Castiel’s bag when he returned from his ‘supply run’, and took it upon himself to then go through the rest of Castiel’s choices.

“What did the cashier do?!” Dean was wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes. Castiel sighed.

“She asked me if I was hosting-“ Castiel cut himself off. He didn’t want to finish this sentence. He didn’t want to tell Dean anything. Dean always had to laugh at him. But Dean was looking at him expectantly again. “-an orgy.” He finished, throwing his arms up and letting them fall at his sides again. Dean was practically on the floor now, holding his sides and howling with silent laughter.

“CAS!” He managed to say through his laughter.

“I didn’t know which ones to buy!”

“You bought the whole condom industry!” Dean was crying with laughter. Castiel forced his lips together. He was not going to engage in laughter with Dean. He was being mean again. _I didn’t know and he’s laughing at me,_ Castiel thought. _I can’t do anything without him laughing at me._

But the way the corners of Dean’s eyes crinkled when he laughed struck Castiel in a way that made his anger dissipate. His dimples were deeply etched in his face as well, and his eyes were shining practically all gold with the happy tears swimming around.

Castiel felt himself smile. And then he was laughing too. Maybe even as hard as Dean.

“I’m gonna give you one more piece of advice about condoms, dude. Then I’m done.” Castiel nodded. “You gotta try some on in case they don’t fit.”

“I’m going to have to try on twenty condoms?” Castiel’s shoulders fell. Dean nodded and walked away.

“Good luck!” He left Castiel in a hurry, probably believing that Castiel might drop trou right in front of him. Castiel grabbed his bag and went to the bathroom. He opened the boxes, and then took a condom from each box and placed them in front of the box they came from. For a moment, he sat there staring at this line-up of condoms, wondering what to do now.

_I have to be erect,_ Castiel decided, already disgusted. _But how do I do that?_ He got aroused all the time now, but he didn’t know why. He clenched his jaw and unbuttoned his pants, pulling both his pants and boxers around his ankles after. He pulled the toilet seat down and sat there, his heart starting to race. He didn’t know if this was a part of the arousal process or not. He closed his eyes hard and reached his hand down to his soft penis. He touched it gently, and his face softened as a sharp shrill of pleasure raced through his stomach. He let out a shaky breath and wrapped his hand firmly around his hardening organ. He gave himself a soft squeeze, and let out a little moan. His head was swimming, and he opened his eyes to look down at his naked form. It looked bigger now than it did when he was showering, or using the bathroom. It had practically tripled in size. He reached for the first condom in the line-up, ripped it open, and looked at it peculiarly. _How do I get this thing on?_ He reached for the box and looked for instructions. He stared blankly at the paper, not understanding at all. _Oh no,_ Castiel thought. _I need help._ He rubbed his forehead.

“Dean!” He called. “Help!” He added, just in case Dean mistook his cry for help as a cry of pleasure. He heard Dean’s footsteps stop at the door.

“Dude.” He said.

“How do you put this stupid thing on, Dean? And do not laugh at me!” He was going to punch Dean in the throat if he so much heard a giggle.

“I am _not_ coming in there, man.” Dean said, horrified.

“Just walk me through it!”

He heard Dean sigh.

“Okay, uhh…” Dean paused. “Oh, God, okay. Um, you take the-“ Dean hit his hand on the door. “Cas! I can’t do this!”

“Either you get in here and show me, or you stay out there and tell me.” The pause was long and awkward. “Dean, I will come out there if you don’t-“

“Fine! Okay!” Dean groaned miserably. “Just take the thing, and pinch the top bubble thing, then-ugh-I don’t want to picture this, then roll the rest down your-you know what, no, did you get it? Do you understand?” Castiel was rolling the condom down his shaft.

“It’s too small for me.” Castiel said. Dean groaned from the other side of the door and Castiel laughed as he walked away. It felt good to finally laugh at Dean’s expense. 


	2. Scribbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks have passed, and it seems like Castiel has given up on the idea of sex or condoms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to post an angsty alternate chapter next because I don't know why but that came out of my mind first and I just wanted to finish the story comedically before I slowly rip your hearts out of your chest with angst and yelling and owies. Love you? <3

The weeks past quickly, and Castiel had seemed to forgotten wanting to get laid. Dean had tried his best to help him, for solid hours throughout endless Friday nights, and no matter what type the girl was, Cas always said "I'm not interested in her, Dean", with an expression on his face that Dean couldn't quite place. And when women seemed to be forever surrounding him, Cas just brushed them off by turning to Dean and saying something stupid, like, "help me", or "Dean, I don't want to talk to her". 

The dude was impossibly ignorant.

But while in the bars he was always apprehensive looking and pale, at the bunker, alone with Dean and Sam, Cas was comfortable, as if he had been human his entire life. He had taken to wearing casual clothes, instead of his suit and trenchcoat, and Dean usually found him with one of his or Sam's plaid shirts buttoned up to his chest, nothing underneath, and a pair of sweatpants which neither of the brothers had a clue came from. His obsession with television hit a new peak, but his shame and privacy had increased as well, and if he was ever watching anything inappropriate whilst Dean and Sam where away, whenever Cas heard them coming, he turned it off and one of his daytime shows on. 

It was almost four months before Sam asked Castiel why he was always squinting.

"Take him to the eye doctors', Dean." Sam said, a bitchface in the making. Dean nodded before it was a full on bitch-rant. It had turned out that Cas was near-sighted, which made the brothers feel like absolute shit. But, of course, Cas had to make everything more difficult and instead of choosing regular wire frames (which he whined were "too tight on his nose"), he picked a large pair of square, thick-rimmed plastic frames, smiling as he put them on.

And Dean had to admit, if anyone could pull them off, it was Cas.

"You look like Clark Kent." Dean said, laughing softly, as they drove back to the bunker. Cas was staring at him, a quirk that humanity hadn't squished out of him yet. He stiffened his posture and squirmed a little in his seat. "You okay, Cas?" He asked, glancing over at the bespectacled brunet. Cas' eyes were wide, and he was smiling in a way that Dean hadn't seen before. He began to giggle, and looked out of the window. 

Dean was curious now.

"What?" He said, eyes focusing on the other man before darting back to the road. 

"I can count your freckles," he said, and Dean heard the smile in his voice. "The constellation of Dean, written across the bridge of your nose." Dean shifted in his seat again, unsure why this pleased him so much. "You're so beautiful." He sighed, and tilted his head onto the window beside him. Dean glanced at him again, and chuckled softly to see the glasses askew on his face, as Cas slowly slipped into sleep. He reached into his pocket and grabbed his phone, keeping his eyes on the road (for the most part), and snapped a picture.

* * *

In the mornings, Cas had a ritual. 

Get up, grab a notebook (or a piece of paper, or the unread pages of the newspaper, or nearly anything that was around), and head to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, which he had taught himself how to pre-set to make at the same time every morning, and then pour a cup of orange juice, and then a glass of water. As he scribbled, he would take sips out of the cups in seemingly random intervals, and then he would go back to his room, and come back to watch his 9:00 show. 

Dean watched this ritual of Cas' become a sort of religion for him, but never questioned the amounts of liquid, nor the scribbles on the paper he seemingly destoyed as he brought it to his room. It was none of his business, no matter how curious this sort of behavior made him.

He itched to ask Cas to show him something he was scribbling in the morning, but everytime he got the courage to ask, he ended up asking how Cas liked his show, or how he liked the coffee, or if there was too much pulp in the orange juice this morning. Cas usually gave him a simple one or two-word answer and went back to scribbling. 

Dean knew this wasn't a good idea. He felt it in his bones as he creaked Cas' door open. The man had gone to take a walk, another morning ritual, and he had approximately 7 more minutes to sneak around before Cas came back inside and locked himself in his room for an hour. He knew that if Cas ever found out that he was in his room, he would probably ruin all the trust the other man had for him for the rest of his life. 

But, somehow, the prize outranked the risk, and Dean was rifling through Cas' stuff, looking for the papers with the scribbling on it. In the drawers, nothing. In the closet? Nope. The desk? Nada.

Dean looked over at Cas' meticulously made made. Apparently, it was Cas' ritual to get up, then make his bed,  _then_ come out and scribble endlessly. He made his way over to the twin-sized bed, and sighed before getting on his knees and reaching underneath. His fingers brushed a box.

Dean grabbed it, pulling it into his grasp as he sat so his back rested against Cas' bed. He looked at the shoe box for a long time, contemplating the evil he was about to commit. He opened it, and saw the scribbling waiting for him inside.

_Jackpot._

_  
_But Dean couldn't read them. He looked at them in milisecond intervals, feeling a deep regret in his stomach he's only felt once before, after killing Amy. He put the lid back on the box and shoved it back under Cas' bed, quickly leaving the room and hoping, _praying_ Cas would never find out.

And if he did, he never said anything to Dean.

* * *

The three always went out on Friday nights, another ritual Cas was fond of, even though he was noticably uncomfortable most of the night. A part of him yearned to shake Cas out of it, or pat him on the back or  _something_ , because it was so damn pathetic that the guy was so afraid of talking to women. 

Tonight was different though. Cas had drank much more than his usual two beers. And by 'more than usual', that meant his usual two beers and then a shot of whisky, vodka, and rum. Cas was in for a rough night, Dean knew, and somehow he was okay with the thought of taking care of the drunk man.

As usual, the girls came up to Cas one by one, but unlike the usual, Cas was batting his eyelashes beneath his glasses, and flirting with these women. Dean felt his face harden, a sudden heat sweeping over him. He never left Cas' side, as usual, and he felt like shooing the women away as they approached Cas all through the night. Sam was nowhere to be found, and probably seated in a dark corner sharing his emotions with a girl who would have just fucked him at the sight of his long flowing hair. Dean wanted to leave, and he didn't want to leave Cas' side to find his brother. 

"Cas, buddy, let's go find Sammy, m'kay?" Dean raised his eyes almost smugly at the girl Cas was chatting to, and with a flip of her hair, she sauntered away. Cas looked up at Dean with a big, gummy smile, and leaned against him. 

"I can't walk." He giggled, and tried to stand against Dean, his knees buckling instantly. Dean caught him, and threw the man's arm over his shoulder, bracing himself with most of Cas' weight.  _Dead weight,_  Dean thought, as he dragged the half-unconcious man around the bar, seeing Sam's ridiculously long hair at a table in the back. His tongue was halfway down a lean blonde's throat, and he laughed as he turned around and headed for the bar door.

Sammy had plans tonight, it seemed.

* * *

It was a hassle to get Cas seated in the passenger's seat, but somehow Dean managed it. Cas was giggly and all smiles as Dean buckled him up. As Dean closed the door on his side, he heard Cas' seatbelt unbuckle, and sighed as he turned to the other man. "Cas, you have to be-" he started, and as he turned to coax the man to keep his seatbelt on, he was greeted by Cas, two inches from his face, blue eyes blurred and shiny. Dean coughed in his throat and pulled back, taking a second to adjust to this situation. "Cas." He said, exhasperated. "I have to get you home in one piece. Please put your belt on." He was practically pleading, looking everywhere but Cas.

"Kiss me, Dean." Cas said, and leapt across the car to touch him. Dean flinched uncontrollably as Cas' hands pulled his face in closer, and he felt Cas' soft breath on his face. He closed his eyes, and felt a relax fall over him as he breathed in Cas' air. He clenched his jaw and opened his eyes, taking Cas' hands in his own and looked at him directly in the eyes. Cas was taken over by something, and Dean's best guess was the shot of whisky. 

"I'm not going to kiss you, Cas." He said, and Cas' lower lip pouted. Dean felt something pull at his heart. "You're drunk, and you're not going to remember this in the morning."  _But I will._ Dean softly pressed Cas back into his seat, and buckled him up again. Cas' hand crept towards Dean's, and Dean didn't pull away. Cas' hand was warm, and strangely soft. "Sleep, Cas." Dean said, and Cas nodded.

"You're amazing." Cas sighed, his words slurring slightly. His hand continued to rest on Dean's. "I-" He started to say, and then his eyes shut slowly, his smile fading into a little 'o' shape on his face. Dean felt his eyebrows furrow on his face.

Drunk Cas was an experience. 

His snores were low and sweet, and Dean used them as confidence that Cas was alive and well, and very drunk. He wondered if Cas always snored, or if it was just the alcohol. His hand had been freed by Cas' when he took a hold of the wheel, and his hand misses the warmth of it. He focuses on the road, as much as he can focus with Cas' snoring and little mutters. He looked down at the man and felt the corners of his lips turn up. He took his hand off the wheel and placed it on Cas' hair, stroking his fingers along the man's forehead. 

When Dean drives up to the bunker, he sighs and looks at the man sleeping in his passenger's seat. He walked over to Cas' side of the car, and opened the door. Cas' eyes fluttered open, and he was looking up at Dean with a look of confusion in his eyes.

"Dean." Cas' voice was raspy. "Where are we?" He pushed his glasses up and clicked open the seatbelt. He lurched forward, attempting to get out of the car, and Dean caught him as he nearly fell face-first into the gravelly ground. He pulled Cas to his feet, shushing the poor man's whimpers. Cas fell into Dean, an unwelcome embrace that Dean welcomed this time. Cas continued to whimper, now in Dean's ear, and Dean was shushing him.

"It's okay, Cas." He said, shifting the smaller man's body so he was half-carrying him again. "I've got you." He walked Cas to the door. "Four steps, Cas." He said, and Cas's head snuggled onto Dean's shoulder. He felt the heat rising to his face, and as Cas' foot stumbled underneath him, he grabbed Dean's stomach, an immediate response to not fall. Dean growled, and reached down to Cas' legs, lifting them with his other hands. 

The predicament was ridiculous, and Dean was grateful Sammy had found a girl to fuck, because he would never live this down. Carrying Cas over the threshold? He would never speak of this to anyone. He looked down at Cas, who was cuddled up to him, fast asleep. _And you'll never remember it,_ Dean thought. He made his way through the house, making sure Cas didn't hit his head or his feet as he made his way to his bedroom. As Dean set Cas on the bed, his eyes flickered open once more.

"Stay." He said, closing his eyes and grabbing Dean's pinky finger. He stood there for a half-second, contemplating. Cas opened his eyes, and smiled, shutting them again. "Stay, please." He giggled. Dean walked to the door and shut off the light. Cas' eyes were open, watching Dean. The hunter stripped his jacket, and his shoes, climbing into the uncomfortably small bed next to Cas. 

"You're in for a world full of pain, tomorrow, Cas." He whispered, and Cas' arm slung over Dean's chest, his nose and mouth squished onto his arm. He was making kissy noises, and Dean groaned with annoyance.

"You're my favorite." Cas said, and fell asleep. Dean stared at him for the most part of the night, and finally fell asleep, his hand on his chest, right on top of Cas' hand.

When they awoke in the morning, it was because of Cas' hangover. He rushed to the bathroom, and Dean could hear the atrocity of the retching down the hall. He cringed and walked slowly to the bathroom door, knocking softly.

"You okay, Cas?" He asked. He heard a long, loud groan in response. He chuckled and turned the doorknob, opening and seeing Cas leaning over the toilet bowl with an unhappy expression.

"I hate this, Dean." He said, his voice raspy, and very much sober.

"Don't mix liquors next time."

* * *

By the end of the day, Sammy had returned, also hungover, and wearing a bitchface because Dean 'ditched' him last night.

"You were getting it on with the blonde!" Dean defended himself. Sam practically growled, and went to the kitchen to fix himself something greasy. Cas came out of the bathroom, and once again sat across the couch from Dean, groaning.

"Drink the gatorade. Eat the crackers." Dean demanded. Castiel groaned and picked up a flimsy saltine cracker.

"This tastes like cardboard covered in salt." He whined, and took a small bite. Dean laughed as Cas' face grew disgusted.

"I'm going to bed." Sammy called from the kitchen, and Cas slammed his head against the couch.

"I'm never drinking again." Cas said, and Dean laughed again. He looked up at Cas and bit the inside of his lip.

"What do you remember from last night?" Dean asked, and Cas looked up at him with a confused look. "Besides throwing down shots and flirting with every woman that came up to you." Dean specified. All of the color drained out of Cas' face.

"I did  _what_?" Cas said, and if he couldn't believe that, what Dean was about to tell him would absolutely shock the hangover right out of him.

"Oh yeah. Batting your eyelashes and everything." Cas' face was horrified. "You also-" Dean coughed before continuing. "-threw yourself on me and told me to kiss you." Dean blurted out, and Cas' flesh turned pink. He closed his mouth. "And told me to sleep in your bed with you." Dean scratched the back of his head. "And I did. Sleep in the bed with you, that is." He said, and looked up at Cas' face. 

"I am  _never_ drinking again." He said, and walked down the hall back to his room. Dean followed him, and when Cas tried his best to slam the door behind him, Dean caught it with his hands and pushed himself in. "Dean." Cas said, and looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I think you've given me enough to be embarrassed about today." Cas' voice was choked up, and Dean's jaw clenched. "Please, leave." 

Dean didn't leave. He walked closer to Cas, and held his hand out to touch his shoulder. Cas closed his eyes as Dean's hand squeezed softly. A tear streaked down his face. Dean caught it with his finger and wiped it away.

"Show me what you scribble in the mornings." Dean said, and Cas' head snapped up at him. His mouth closed, and he went to retrieve the box from under his bed. He sat down on the rumpled sheets, and Dean sat next to him, the box between the two.

Cas sighed, and pushed the box towards Dean. "Please," he said, and closed his eyes hard. "Don't be disgusted with me." Dean looked at the other man, before slowly lifting the box's lid off the top, and sprawling the papers across his lap. Every piece was a different part of a bigger puzzle. Words, drawings, and little poems covered his laps.

 _Green. Gold. Dean's eyes are perfect golden emeralds in the morning._ Dean's head swam, and he felt a small smile appear on his face.

 _I'm so glad Dean took me to get glasses. Every freckle for every kiss I've wished to place on him, and then some._ Dean turned the paper over.  _I wonder how many freckles are on the rest of his body._ Dean's body flushed with heat, and Cas was staring at him, expecting the worst. Dean kept leafing through.

 _Dean's lips are pouty, like he's always being kissed._ Dean closed his eyes before reading the rest.  _If only I was the one always kissing him._ Dean felt an uncomfortable feeling in his groin, and he put the papers back in their home and left Cas sitting there. As Dean entered the bathroom, he realized that he probably left Cas thinking he was disgusted with him.

That was anything but the truth.

The thought of Cas kissing him, and wanting him, was far too much for Dean to handle.

He wasn't worthy of Cas.

* * *

A week past them all by slowly, the tension in the house unbearable for Sam, who had no idea what was going on. Dean felt bad for him, but also for Cas, who he still hadn't talked to about the box.

He had stopped scribbling in the morning, and Dean knew this was all his fault. He would talk to Cas today, he decided, but he decided that every day, and every day, his shame drove him to walk past Cas' room to his own, and to sulk miserably, knowing he could just go over and apologize, and maybe Cas would forgive him.

Cas got up, ready to lock himself in his room for an hour. Dean got up, and followed him, just like before. Cas went to slam the door, and Dean caught it, just as before.

"Cas." Dean said, and shut the door as he let himself in. "Please talk with me." He was pleading, and he couldn't stop it. Cas looked up at him, and Dean couldn't stop it. He lurched towards Cas, taking a fistful of hair in his hands, and pulled their lips together. Cas' hands sank into Dean's arms, and slowly released and brushed down onto his hips. Cas nipped at his bottom lip, and Dean felt a groan in his throat. He stopped kissing Cas and looked at him, his eyes burning.

"I don't think you're disgusting." Dean said, and stroked Cas' cheekbones. "I think you're too good for me." He gulped and Cas shook his head. 

"You're perfect." He said, choking on emotion. " You're a beautiful person, and soul, and..." Cas stopped, searching for the words.

"Yours." Dean finished, and leapt for Cas' mouth again.

Cas led him to the bed, and Dean fell on top of Cas, his mouth all over him now, ripping at the buttons of his plaid shirt on Cas' body, and he now realizes how much this turns him on, when Cas wears his clothes.

"Cas." Dean says, kissing him once more before finishing his question. "Where the  _hell_ did you get these sweatpants?" Cas smiled, and Dean laughed, and Cas says something about finding them in a lonely bag of Dean's from years past. His hands drift down past the unyielding buttons, and touches the soft skin on Cas' hipbones. The overwhelming desire to taste that skin is ridiculously hard to overcome, and Dean's mouth is on Cas' hipbone, licking circles down to the skin above those God-awful sweatpants. Cas is practically screaming with pleasure, and Dean can't get clothes off quickly enough.

"Dean, I want you." Cas says, and licks his lips. Dean rips his own clothes off, able to do that much. Cas watches him, mesmorized, his glasses crooked on his face. Dean takes a second to admire the absolute adorable picture in front of him, and kicks his pants off, standing in front of Cas in just flimsy boxers that aren't covering much at this point. Cas finds the footing to stand and walks up to Dean, his hands slowly stroking down the man's stomach, and plays with the waisband of his boxers.

" _Fuck_ Cas." Dean moans, and Cas is licking the pink flesh on Dean's chest, sending shooting signals straight to his already hard cock. Cas is slowly pulling Dean's boxers off, and leaving a trail of kisses and saliva as he drops to his knees. Dean knows what Cas is about to do, but it doesn't stop him from being shocked as Cas licks the pre-cum off of his slit, and looks up at Dean with big blue  _innocent_ eyes, and then he smiles, those eyes instantly smoldering.

"You taste so good, Dean." Cas says, and licks Dean's cock from the base to the tip, flicking his tongue over his overly sensitive slit again. Dean's head is light, and he's watching Cas with his mouth wide open, he can feel it, but he can't move, Cas is so  _good_ and when Cas starts sucking the tip of his cock, it takes everything Dean has not to come right there. He can't keep his eyes off of Cas's mouth, sliding up and down his erection, licking and sucking in different intervals, and it's so wholehearted that Dean doesn't even care that Cas has no idea what he's doing, because he's doing it all for Dean, and that's perfect for him.

"Oh, oh,  _Cas._  Don't stop..." Dean's eyes are rolling into the back of his skull, and Cas is moving faster, grabbing Dean's ass and letting Dean thrust up into his mouth. Dean can't breathe it feels so good, and he warns Cas that it feels  _too good_ and it's like a white flash of pleasure when he's coming, and he's shouting at Cas, and Cas isn't pulling away, no, he's  _sucking_ Dean's everything, swallowing, licking Dean's cock clean, and Dean is hungry for more. He pulls Castiel up and kisses him deep, his tongue swiping across Cas' bottom lip, begging for an entrance. Cas complies without hesitation, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it aside, pulling his pants off. He flings those across the room too. Dean kisses down his neck, sucking on the flesh where his neck and shoulder connected. Cas was moaning his name, over, and over, and over, like a chant, and Dean thrusted against Cas, feeling the man's hard cock against his stomach. He shuddered, and thrusted again, and Cas was crumbling, moaning nonsense words, and noises, and Dean's name, chopped up, and he knows Cas is about to come, and he wants to see it.

He stops kissing his neck and watches Cas' expression as his hands come down through Cas' boxers, releasing the man's cock. Cas' eyes blur, and Dean is stroking him, watching Cas' eyes open and close, his mouth soundlessly wording Dean's name, and he grabs Dean's arm and holds him tight, looking into Dean's eyes as he screams his name, and Dean thinks it's the most beautiful thing in the world when Cas falls against him, sweaty from the first orgasm someone has ever given him.

"Dean," Cas says, and kisses Dean's bare chest. "I would very much like to do that again."

 


	3. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean watched helplessly as Cas' behavior deteriorated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternate ending, full of angst and badboy!Cas

The weeks past the three men quickly, always some lead sent their way by Garth, always with the line “ _It could be sign of Abaddon.”_ It never was. Dean watched helplessly as Cas’ behavior slowly deteriorated, his attitude an aloof ‘whatever-I-want-to-do-I’m-doing-it’. Usually, that entailed going to bars, and letting the women flock him, using his charming little smile and bright eyes lure the women in during the night.

Dean hated those women.

And he was beginning to hate Cas.

He was reckless, and a womanizer. The first time Cas ever brought a woman home, she was nearly twice his age (or Jimmy’s age, rather), and instead of the laughter Dean expected to hear from the woman, he heard loud screeches and moans coming from his room. Dean remembered the heat he felt in the pit of his stomach, and the sound of the echoing slam of the door as he walked out of the bunker.

Sam was amused by the new Cas, and that only made Dean more frustrated. Sam was watching Castiel now, leaning up against a woman, whispering in her ear, clearly wasted out of his mind. Dean took a sip of his beer before getting up, planning to walk out of the bar.

“Dude, chill out. I thought this is what you wanted Cas to do. To be a _human?_ ” Sam was looking up at him with a bemused face. Dean shook his head, glancing up at Cas one more time. His hands were racing up the woman’s ass, and she was anything but uncomfortable. He clenched his jaw and walked out of the bar with his head down. He had walked all the way to baby and slammed his fists down on her hood.

“ _Damn it.”_ He whispered. He hadn’t done any damage to his precious car, but he polished the spots where he hit with his elbow and cursed the tingling pain in his hands. He looked up at the sky, the black pit above, and sighed, trying to regain composure before heading back to the hotel they were staying at this week. He heard footsteps behind him, and reached for the knife in his back pocket, as he turned around.

“Dean, don’t stab me.” Cas said, laughing. He’d let his beard grow out, and was looking more than disheveled with his fuzzy, drunk eyes, and stumbling posture. Dean practically growled.

“I could have _killed_ you, you stupid son of a bitch!” He angrily whispered. His jaw was clenched, hard, and he felt his whole body tense up at seeing Cas like this. He missed the old Cas, with the innocent bright eyes, blue like he imagined heaven would be like, and honest, and pure. This Cas wasn’t his Cas. Not the angel he’d accidentally corrupted, just by needing him.

“Where are you going?” Cas asked, his words slurring, and Dean could have punched him.

“Back to the motel.” He answered, and walked over to get in the car. Cas followed him. Dean opened the car door and stood behind it, a barrier he knew would stop him from beating the shit out of this new Cas. “ _What?!”_ He hissed, and Cas grabbed the car to keep from falling. He looked up at Dean, and for a second, his whole face sobered, a sad confusion spreading slowly across his face.

“I just-“ Cas started, and Dean cut him off.

“You just what, Cas? You just wanted to drink the whole bar? You just wanted to fuck all of the women in a 200 mile radius? You just wanted to recklessly abandon all sense? You’re a walking disaster zone, man!” Dean didn’t stop there, even when Cas’ face was wrecked with sadness. “You have _lost your fucking mind,_ Cas. And I don’t intend on being around to see you damage yourself any further. I will _not_ watch you fucking kill yourself, or get yourself killed, or whatever you’re trying to do here.” Dean took in a deep breath before continuing. “I don’t even _know_ you anymore.” He tried not to look at the tears streaming down Cas’ face as he slid into the drivers’ seat. He tried not to remember the man’s wobbling lip as he laid into him, and he tried not to picture Cas’ eyes as his expression turned into the like of someone who just lost a puppy. But the whole way back to the hotel, that’s all he saw. 

* * *

Cas had gone missing. At least, that's what Sam kept saying, over and over again the next week. Dean said nothing about his and Cas' last talk, and chose not to help Sam look for Cas.

If Cas wanted to be found, he would be. 

He was probably shacked up with some bar tramp now, in the throws of passion.

"Cas never went home with the girls, Dean. He always brought them back to the hotel." Sam was right, of course, he had sleepless nights to prove it. This made his stomach turn just slightly, but he didn't admit it. He shrugged his shoulders at Sam.

"He'll be alright. He's a big boy." Dean said, and turned his back to Sam. "He has hundreds of women that would vouch for that." Sam sighed and stomped out of the room, and for a second, Dean let himself worry. This wasn't his fault, obviously. Cas was the one who let himself drink half of the alcohol in that bar.

But Dean was the one who yelled at him and left him behind.

Sam was calling the police, and Dean was rolling his eyes. No one was going to search for a creepy guy in a trenchcoat. Dean grabbed his coat and grabbed his keys. If you want a job done right, do it yourself.

He left without telling Sammy goodbye.

* * *

It was four hours into his search that Dean finally decided he was scared.

The night was coming, and the bite in the air was much colder than he had ever imagined. Cas could very well be dead.

He pushed the thought out of his mind.

He had gone to bar after bar, and though every bartender knew Cas by name, none had seen him for three days.

 _Three days._ Dean kept repeating the words in his mind.  _Three days Cas has been on the streets, and three days he could be dead._  He had looked over every good part of the city, hoping Cas was at least smart enough to stay out of the back alleys of the homeless neighborhood. By 1 A.M., Dean was ready to quit.

But instead, he went into the bad part of the city, and secured himself with knives in each pocket before searching the alleyways on foot.

"Cas!" He kept calling, over and over again, until his voice started getting hoarse.  _Would he even come to me after what I said to him?_  Dean gulped hard, and blinked away the worried tears in his eyes. "Cas!" He called, more desperate, and he could hear the cracking of his own voice.

There were hundreds of people on these streets, and Dean looked at every face, always hoping he would see Cas' scared blue eyes staring up at him.

For three hours he walked, and for three hours, he felt hopeless. 

Until he saw it. Cas looked so tiny without his trenchcoat, but it was him. 

Covered with blood, unconcious, and clothes torn to shreds, but it was him. Dean cursed as he ran to him, taking off his own jacket to cover the broken man's body. "Cas, you stupid fucking idiot." He whispered, and lifted Cas' lifeless body, running back to the car as fast as he could. He didn't even notice the tears in his eyes until Cas' body was safe in the passenger's seat of the Impala. Dean checked Cas' pulse, his heart stopping, but he could let shaky breaths out after he found the beating of his heart.

"Thank God." He whispered, and drove back to the hotel. 

Sam was waiting there, pacing, and when Dean pulled in, Sam raced out.

"Sam!" He was frantic. Sam ran out to help his brother, and the two carried Cas to Dean's bed, and raced in opposite directions to gather supplies. Sam got hot water, rags, and a water bottle from the fridge, and Dean got the whisky, and the thread, and more blankets and clothes. They stitched Cas up and tried their best to warm his body, but Cas didn't wake up, even though he was drinking the water Sam was pouring into his body.

Sam fell asleep on the floor beside the bed, his head resting on the side of the mattress. When Dean was sure that Sam was asleep, he crawled in the bed next to Cas, and felt his cold skin. It burned white against his palm. Dean cursed as he shifted to hold Cas, and he felt Cas shiver underneath Dean's warm body. 

"Dammit, Cas. Dammit." He repeated, an incantation of his own guilt. "Dammit." He bit his tongue to hold back the tears.

* * *

Sam said nothing in the morning when he woke up and saw his brother spooning Cas' body. A flush of color had reappeared in Castiel's face, and his chest was moving in steady breaths. 

But he didn't wake up.

Dean couldn't face leaving the bed, let alone the hotel room. He paced around Cas for most of the day, seeing a flinch of Cas' pinky finger, or a movement of his lips, and rushing over to greet the man as he awoke.

But he never did.

Sam kept telling him to wait it out, but Dean felt like doing nothing more than shaking the unconcious man until his eyes opened, so he could apologize, so he could hug him and tell him that he never meant it.

But he couldn't tell Sam that.

Sam didn't even know why Cas had run away in the first place.

But Dean would have to live with that the rest of his life.

He crawled beside Cas again that night, wrapping his arms around the man, and he couldn't have cared less how Sam was looking at him, because this was  _Dean's_ fault, and he was going to repay Cas in anyway he could.

Keeping him warm and safe was the best he could do right now.

In the middle of the night, Cas woke up. He woke up with a heaving breath in, and thrashing out of Dean's grasp, turning and hitting Dean with as much force as he could. When Dean finally grabbed the man's wrists, he heard Cas sobbing.

"Cas." He said, and sat up, not letting the man go. Cas took a terrible breath in, whimpering with sobs. Dean couldn't breathe.

"Dean?" He whispered, and he leapt across the remaining space to hug him. Dean pressed his face into Cas' dark hair, not caring if Sam was now staring with his mouth open at them, and he clenched his eyes shut, and wept into Cas' hair. 

"I thought you were dead." He whispered, and held him tighter, and Sam's arms were around them both, silencing their sobs.

* * *

For whatever reason, Sam would not let Cas and Dean have a minute alone. Dean refused to talk to Cas about anything besides hunting while Sam was around, which meant that if he wanted a moment alone to apologize to Cas, he would have to trick him into leaving.

Or, force him.

"Sam, we need food." Dean said, a glare as Sam began to sit between Cas and himself at the table.

"So go get some."

"I think  _you_ should go get some." He said, his eyebrows raising. Sam pulled a bitchface.

"Well, I think that I got some last time, so maybe  _you_ should go." Sam was as stubborn as ever.

"Fine." Dean said, smiling. "And Cas can go with me." Sam's bitchface was enhanced.

"Cas isn't  _strong_ enough, Dean-" Sam started, and Cas cut him off. 

"I can go with Dean." He said, and before Sam could interfere, Dean and Cas were heading out the door. 

Sam puffed a breath out in frustration.

The walk to the car was quiet.

So was the drive to the nearest fast food place.

And the drive back from the fast food place was pretty quite too, actually. Dean mentally hit himself and coughed.

"I-" He started, and Cas turned to look at him.

"Dean-" He started, and Dean pulled off the road. They weren't getting anywhere.

"Cas, I'm sorry." He said as he parked the car, staring at the steering wheel. "I'm so sorry." He said, and he kept repeating it, closing his eyes and whispering it, and Cas never stopped him. "I'll never forgive myself-" He said.

"Dean." Cas interrupted, and Dean's neck snapped to look at him. "This is all my fault, Dean." He said. And Dean could have punched him.

"No, Cas. I shouldn't have said all of those things, I made you-"

"No, Dean, I was the one who was drunk, and kept bringing women home-"

"Cas, please, I overreacted, you're free to do whatever you want-"

"Dean, I don't want to do whatever I want-"

"Cas, if you had died, I would have-"

"Dean, I love you." Cas said, and Dean shut up. Finally. He stared open-mouthed at Cas for a minute, and then closed his mouth, suddenly dry.

"You love me?"

"I love you." He had heard right. 

"But all those women-"

"I brought home to make you jealous." Cas confessed. I thought it would work, like in all of those movies. But you never said anything to me about them, and didn't show any interest."

"I was jealous." He said, and he felt his stomach turn.  _Did I actually just say that?_ "Every single time you were with one of those girls I wanted to scream." Dean gulped down air. "That's why I was leaving that night."

"That's why I followed you out. I thought you would finally-"  _Finally what?_ Dean thought. _Kiss you? Proclaim my love? For someone who was so obviously attracted to women?_ Dean sighed.

"I didn't mean any of what I said to you." He said. "That night, I was just fed up, and you were all over that woman, your hands were on her ass and I just couldn't see straight anymore."

"You don't see straight to begin with." Cas said, and Dean looked up at his small smile. He felt himself start to laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and Cas was laughing with him.

* * *

When Cas and Dean returned with the now cold hamburgers, Sam sighed in relief.

"I thought you two were going to kill each other." He said. "Did you finally talk to each other about your feelings?" Dean could have vomited.

"Put your man-pants back on, Sammy." He said, and he saw Cas nodding out of the corner of his eye.  _Great._  


End file.
